I Improve Things
by Avoidant
Summary: A man is assigned to improve Jessie and James' performance records. Chapter two is up! :D
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1: I improve things

--

"Mister Giovanni will see you now, sir."

I looked up from my newspaper, (the article was titled "how to be a better conman") and tilted my sunglasses down over the bridge of my nose to see the receptionist, sort of waving at me. She was cute. A small figure, nice hips, red hair. Even round glasses that looked cute on her semi rounded face—

"Please hurry sir, he does not like to wait,"

"Oh yes," I thought. "Mustn't keep the important people waiting…"

(If this were a movie, the screen would freeze while he explains things about himself, to fill the viewer in. Because it is not a movie, however, just pretend that I'm not trying to indulge myself in clichés.)

I suppose I should provide you with some details about who I am, so you won't get confused. I am, what a lot of people like to call, an "improver." I improve things. When, say, production rate is down at a factory, I improve their rates, and so on. I have an excellent record. I've never…not…improved…something. Yeah.

Of course, the things I improve are not simple toy store production rates.

I followed far behind the young receptionist as she led me to the Don's room. I noticed, as I subtlety glanced at her behind, that she had a pokeball attached to a keychain. The keychain held many keys. I wondered how the ball stayed attached. Magnets? God, she looked good. Her tight red uniform matched with the red tiled floors that we walked on, and even her red hair. If only it was not a professional environment—

She stopped at a door, and used one of her many keys to open it. She pressed down on the shiny gold doorknob, and pushed open the oak door.

It was like a large lawyer's office, almost. There were bookshelves on two sides of the room. Behind me was the door, and a plant near the door. It looked like it was in excellent condition, almost breathing, even. I wondered if Giovanni liked plants. On the wall farthest away was a desk and a window with some curtains in front of it, that had been drawn to suck out the light. As my eyes adjusted to the room, I could make out a figure sitting at the desk—

"What did I say," the figure whispered in a cold, cruel voice. It pierced my soul. "…about knocking before you enter?

I turned around. The once cute receptionist had turned pale and acquired a clammy look. "No," she whispered, her voice wavering, "Please, I won't do it again please I promise ohgodnoplease," was all she could mumble before two large men appeared from the shadows of the room. One hoisted her above his shoulders, and the other handcuffed her. She sobbed as they walked her to the curtains, and kicked open the window. I watched, paralyzed with fear, wondering if what I was seeing was even real. Then, before I could do anything, they threw her out of the window. Her scream was muted in seconds as the window electronically closed itself. We were on floor number 7.

I've seen some pretty bad things. I lurked on some strange web sites for a while when I was younger, and even in my job, I had helped with large gangs, but I had never seen a man do something like this before, over something as simple as a door—

"Do not be alarmed," he spoke calmly and coolly. I did not notice his two men disappear into the shadows. "That sad, unfortunate end," he said, as he pushed a button, and the door slammed behind me, "will only be yours if your record does not hold up to its standards." I swallowed, hard. If I failed, would I be—"Now sit down," he said, interrupting my thoughts. "I have a team for you to improve…"

I felt hazy. The room was spinning around me as I sat down in the chair placed in front of his desk. Giovanni pulled a folder out of nowhere and pushed it to me. I felt uncomfortable, to say the least. His desk was not very big. I was about a foot away from his face, and that's too much for me, after watching him kill his receptionist and all.

I took the folder and opened it.

There was a picture of a striking trio. One had red hair, the other, a sort of grey blue color. He held a rose in his hand. The third seemed like a weird sort of mascot, for it was a cat. I read the files to myself, not daring to speak a word; the silence was too intimidating to interrupt. I could feel my fingers shaking as I held the file and read their names and history…

"Jesse and James…missions attempted, 653…successful missions…4."

I wanted to die, reading that. I looked up, knowing the answer anyway. I dared, and asked, "Am I supposed to--"

"Yes. I want you to improve their record. I sent them on a mission a long time ago, you see…"

I chanced a look away from his cold stare, and saw some Heineken bottles in the corner of his room, near the curtains. I wished that I could disappear for a minute. His cold gaze brought me back, and now I could smell the liquor on his breath. "I told them, 'I want that kid's Pikachu. Look at the file. Look at it."

His tone had sped up now. This team must have really bothered him if it made such a cool leader like Giovanni this aggravated.

I looked down at the file, and saw a picture of a young boy. He looked to be about ten or eleven. He was holding a large rat like creature. I suppose this was a Pikachu. I was never too into this Pocket monster thing. I went to business school and skipped the whole "leave home at ten" fad.

"I sent them out for that thing five years ago, and they still don't have it. They refuse to come into my office (I wondered why, sarcastically, and had to force back a grin) to this day, but they don't know what I know…"

Just then, there was a flash of light, as Giovanni stabbed a knife into the gold coin on the Meowth's forehead. My hand was less than a centimeter away. I almost jumped. It was important not to show fear, even though my insides felt like shit. I needed a smoke badly, and I quit years ago.

"That THING has a miniature spy camera inside of it. I watch their battles, and I watch them make a mockery of my name, of Team Rocket. This is unacceptable."

He pointed the knife at me now.

"I want you to improve them," he said.

The room was deathly quiet, as he sat there, across from me, leaning his elbow over the table with a sick grin, and a knife held inches away from the area between my eyes. I had taken off my sunglasses when I came in. I could feel myself sweating, but I kept my eyes focused on the sharp edge of the blade for what felt like an eternity of silence.

He moved the knife away, and I could breathe again. He passed me a paper with the team's coordinates on it.

"They've been notified of you. They are a stubborn lot, so they may pretend that they don't know who you are. Your mission is this," he leaned over to cough.

"I want you to make sure that by this time two weeks from now, that team has all of that Ash kid's pokemon; Every last one. It's like an interest rate after the years of failure. I'm giving you full access to Team Rocket's resources, although you should not need them. The kid is, what, fifteen or sixteen now? I can't believe they couldn't…" He trailed off. I wanted to get out; I could see his rage building. A small vein was forming over his left eyebrow, and his face was growing red.

"GO," he yelled finally, waving the knife at me. "Get out of my office and go do your job like I'm paying you to do." He shoved the folder towards me, and I took it without noticing.

I didn't need to be told twice. I stood up to leave, probably too eagerly, for the two men from before were already there, hoisting me out of my own chair. They walked me out of the office, and to the elevator, where I was accompanied by another older man with a handgun. He did not have a pokeball. I left the building in a daze, and strode past the corpse of the young secretary. I tried not to look; there was already a crowd gathering, and I heard one man say, "Yeah, it's the third one this week. Whoever works here has been sending them down every time they mess up. My wife's scared to death that she'll be next, and he just keeps paying off the police…"

In that moment, a kid moved out of the way, and I saw her face again as I walked by. I felt sick. What was once the nicest thing I'd seen in days wasn't even recognizable. I could almost see the mush of her brain on the sidewalk, but an older man blocked it.

I made my way to my car. After fumbling around in my pocket for a while, I found my keys. I sat down, closed the door, and placed both hands on the steering wheel to settle my nerves. I hadn't even noticed, but I had left his office with the file. Apparently I had set it in the passenger seat without noticing. I was never this rattled. I had to calm down.

As I started the ignition and drove out of the empty parking lot and past the crowd surrounding the beautiful receptionist's corpse, I wondered, what had I gotten myself into?


	2. Chapter 2

I can't think of how old Ash would be at this point. I'm going to go out on a limb and say he's around 16 or 17 at this point. Forgive me for not knowing much about the newer pokemon, in the later chapters. If I mess something up that bothers you, please, for the love of all that is good, tell me. D:

Thanks to all of the people who wrote reviews. I enabled guest reviews, too. It was like that as a default. Thanks for notifying me of that. I'd hate to lose out on an excellent critique because of the default settings.

Anyway, now, without further ado, I present to you, chapter two. (OH MY GOD, DID I JUST RHYME?)

Chapter 2: Meeting the Trio

As I left the city behind me, I couldn't help but have gruesome flashbacks of the receptionist's face. I could hardly drive; every time I drove past a woman in a car, I remembered her, with her brains on the sidewalk…the coldness with which her own boss had her murdered, and now I was working for him. Him, of all people. The thought was just ridiculous. I hoped that I would not be considered an accomplice, but that was why I didn't give my name much. I was cautious, at least--

Suddenly, my cell phone rang. The ringtone that my ex had picked out, "Friday I'm in love," blasted in the car. I had to change that. The caller ID displayed a "Private Number." I hesitated, but answered.

"H-hello?" I choked a bit on my words. Was I still so nervous? Why? It was probably some telemarketer or a bill collector, or some prank kid—

"Hello," said a rough sounding, obviously distorted voice. "Our boss has informed us of our meeting."

"Y—yes," I stammered into the phone. I never liked driving while talking on the phone. As if to tell me why I'd never tried it before, I slammed the brakes to avoid hitting a truck. The man on the other line continued.

"We'll meet at the Celadon city Pokemon center. Be there in two hours." I glanced at my watch. 8:00.

I couldn't get over how cold this guy sounded. How organized, too. These people had a terrible record? Impossible, I thought. Just then, a much higher male voice shouted into the phone,

"Is that the guy? OOOOOOH…!! Let me talk to him!"

And then another, with a strange accent,

"Let me talk to da man. Quit hoggin' 'im to ya'self!"

There was the sound of some heavy equipment falling, probably the voice disguiser, and then I could hear a woman's voice yelling at the two men. The call ended.

For a while I just stared at my phone. They had sounded so convincing at first; so tactical: The disguised voices, the planned meeting, AND the place. I had watched their plan fall apart. No, not watched. _Heard_. I could hear their fail over the phone. I gripped my steering wheel to bring me back to the present time. The sound of honking filled my consciousness. I was sitting in the middle of the road, not moving, and I had been there ever since I'd slammed the brakes earlier. I drove on, towards Celadon, eager to meet the people I would be working with.

I arrived in Celadon with ten minutes left to spare. I parked my small black sedan in the Pokemon Center's parking lot, locked it, and strode through the electronic double doors.

The place had really changed. Apparently, the designers of these places had gone for a more modern touch. The place no longer resembled a small hospital. Now it looked like a large store for kids to loiter in while their Pokemon healed. It could even be compared to the Starbucks that I've heard so much about.

A boy was sitting playing a PSP while his friends sat around him, watching. Another group of kids were playing their DS's, and a group of young children were poking a Chansey, much to its discontent.

Where there was once empty space, there were now tables and comfortable chairs. Couches lined the walls where there were once dry plants. An escalator led up to another room that I could not see. The place was so different from the days of the red and blue versions.(lolol) The only thing that hadn't changed was the nurse.

"Hello!!" said the famous twin, nurse Joy. She beamed at me like I had just given her the best night of her life; like this was the pillow talk afterwards. Did she do this with everyone…? "Please put your Pokeballs on the tray!" She did it again. She beamed. No, that's not it. She glowed. It was hard to watch. She coughed, losing some patience. "Please sir, the pokeballs. Place them on the tray.

I looked down at the tray she kept mentioning. It was a steel tray, much like the one a dentist uses to hold his or her tools in. A Chansey was holding it. God, I could go for some eggs right now…I could feel myself drooling, and while I was staring at the Chansey, I had never actually turned my face away from nurse Joy. Her smile turned into the most displeased expression I have ever seen, as if I fell asleep in the middle of our pillow talk.

"The tray."

"I don't have any," I said, as if this would excuse everything.

"Then please leave the line sir." She beamed again, but her eyebrows said otherwise. I left the line, fast, and took a seat at one of the tables. The kids began to leave one by one with their pokemon, each more eager to continue their journey than the last. I sighed, envying their free time.

It was 10:00 PM. Right on time. I waited.

Five minutes went by. I occupied myself by shuffling my feet under the table and making musical sounds with the rubber of my cheap sneakers. Ten minutes now. I took out a pair of shades and put them on. Then I took them off. I said to myself, "room goes light, room goes dark, room goes light, room goes da--" Fifteen minutes passed. I kicked the chair back, and propped my legs up on the table. I stared at my watch. They were late. How could they be late, when they asked me to show up for them? How annoying…-- Just then, I felt someone tugging on the end of my jeans. I looked up, and pulled my shades down over my nose, in a cool, action hero fashion, only to come face to face with a disgruntled nurse Joy. Her forehead had angry wrinkles in it, but she smiled, nonetheless.

"Hello," she began. I could hear her self restraint in each syllable. "Could you take your shoes off of the table?"

I blinked, and fell backwards. My head hit the ground, hard. I could see the ceiling tiles now. They were spinning. I moved my eyes upward, and noticed the entrance, where a cat walked in on two legs. I must have been hallucinating.

Nurse Joy, who was being strangely out of character tonight, had left me there, apparently. Some nurse—Just then, I could feel my brain screaming at me, "_you dumb fuck, that was them."_ I looked around the room, and saw the trio, ascending the escalator together. The red haired woman, who was looking very annoyed, some cat ears that I could barely see over the railing, and a man with a rose in his mouth. Just like the file. I followed them.

(this room resembles the one that a player must walk through if he wants to challenge his friends to a battle.)

I, getting on the escalator last, stepped off last as well. I looked around the room, and did not see anybody. The room was quite small, but there were doors leading to other rooms along the wall. There were two computers on the side wall, and two desks off on the other wall, that were behind a glass window. The people who worked at those desks were probably taking a break, for the rooms were empty.

Before I could register more about the room, I was seized by some very rough hands, and pushed to the floor. A sharp pain went through my skull, as it hit the ground for the second time tonight. I was kissing concrete. This was them.

"Jessse," said a whiny sounding male, " was it really necessary to do that to him? He was hired by the boss--"

"James, of course it was," she barked at him.

"How stupid," I thought to myself. In two sentences, they had told me who they were, and I now knew who was attacking me. I made a mental note of their willingness to give up their names, when suddenly, "Jesse" got off of me and allowed me to stand. I turned to face them.

They looked just like they did in their picture. Jesse had some sleep deprived bags under her eyes, but other than that, they looked the exact same. I didn't see a cat. All the better, though. I wasn't comfortable being watched by their boss…Just then the lights went out, and suddenly, from out of nowhere, all the light in the room was focused on one small area of the room. The two appeared there, under the makeshift spotlight, each wearing face masks around their necks ("where did they get these from?" I wondered) standing back to back. I just stared, wondering if the blows to my head had done me in, finally.

"Prepare for trouble," said one.

"And make it double," said the other.

"To protect the world from devastation…" (here, I laughed. They were in a criminal gang. "to protect?")

"…to unite all peoples within our nation," said the other. I held back a grin.

"To denounce the evils of truth and love!"

"To extend our reach to the stars above…!"

The red head did a back flip, "JES---" but hit the low ceiling and crashed to the ground. "Jesse…!" she groaned.

The guy with purple hair tried his luck at a back flip, and fell backwards down the escalator. His painful descent could be heard outside the building, I'm sure. The lights turned back on, and the cat from the picture ran into the scene and said hastily, "Meowth, that's right!" James, now holding crutches that came from seemingly nowhere, limped back into the shot for their Kodak moment.

The light flashed on the Meowth's coin, and I could remember instantly, what the boss had told me after murdering the receptionist.

"_That sad, unfortunate end will only be yours…if your record does not hold up to its standards."_

And I just stood there, wanting to shoot myself now.


End file.
